


A Mother's Plea and Born to be My Baby

by Slaymesoftly



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-16
Updated: 2013-03-16
Packaged: 2017-12-05 11:46:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/722925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slaymesoftly/pseuds/Slaymesoftly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Season III canon to the point that Angel has drained Buffy to save his life and carried her to the hospital. Joyce and Giles are already there because they've been called about Faith's ER admission. Joyce has a friend with her, and when it appears Buffy is dying, she prevails upon her friend to do what he needs to do to keep Buffy in the world. My first (and for many years only) Vamp!Buffy fic, it is followed immediately by Born to Be My Baby which continues with Buffy's attempts to prevent the Mayor's ascension as well as her continued adjustment to her new situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Mother's Plea and Born to be My Baby

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Two fics in one, because, even though they were written at different times, they could obviously have been rolled into one story.   
> And a gazillion thank yous to Always_jbj for both the beta and the time spent getting rid of random lines that appeared and wouldn’t go away. * hugs C.*

Season III- just after Buffy has made Angel bite her to save him from the poison in his system.  
Disclaimer: All Joss, all the time. I’m just playing with his toys.

 

**A Mother’s Plea**

The souled vampire came back to himself suddenly, the poison having been eliminated from his system by the incredible elixir he’d just ingested. He looked down at the crumpled form of the love of his life and gave an anguished howl as he saw what he’d done. Vampire hearing allowed him to pick up the faintest trace of a heartbeat and he quickly pressed the cloth they’d been using on his feverish head against the bloody wound in her neck before picking up her limp body and racing towards the nearest hospital.

He strode into the emergency room to find her Watcher, her mother and, somewhat inexplicably, his grandchilde, all standing by themselves in an empty intake area. 

Joyce gave a muffled cry and ran to his side, her stomach clenching when she recognized his burden. 

“What happened? We know Faith was stabbed – she’s here, was Buffy stabbed too? 

“No,” Giles said in a low, dangerous voice that was new to her. He glared at the completely recovered vampire. “She wasn’t stabbed, was she, Angel?”  
Angel shook his head mutely, already hearing the heartbeat slowing even more. 

“I’m sorry, Joyce,” he whispered, depositing Buffy’s body on the nearest bed and leaving the room with his head bowed. 

Joyce looked around frantically for help, but all the emergency room personnel were at the other end of the large triage area dealing with a sudden influx of casualties. The mayor’s gang of vampires, knowing the Slayer was distracted by Angel’s condition, had been terrorizing the town since sundown and in addition to the usual random victims, a bus that had been hijacked by the vamps was providing a rush of injured and dying patients, all needing blood immediately.

“What happened?” Joyce looked frantically from Giles to the vampire who’d shown up at her door unexpectedly just as she was leaving for the hospital. He hadn’t appeared to be drunk this time, so Joyce gratefully accepted his offer to drive her and hadn’t even thought about his being a vampire until she saw the expression on Giles’ face when she walked in followed by William the Bloody.

She’d explained to Spike on the way over about Angel’s being shot with the poisoned arrow and Buffy’s attempt to bring Faith in to cure him. Buffy hadn’t shared with her mother that it was Faith’s blood Angel needed to live, so Joyce made no connection between the obviously recovered vampire’s health and her daughter’s own dire condition.

When Giles didn’t answer immediately, but ran to get someone to give Buffy a transfusion, Spike answered for him, “The bloody wanker almost killed her. That’s what happened.”

He stepped closer to the bed, hearing Buffy’s heart rate slowing even more as they looked at her. Under the blonde hair, her face was ashen, her lips blue and she appeared to be dead. A moan from Joyce brought his attention back to the Slayer’s mother. He felt an unaccustomed pang of sympathy for the woman who welcomed him into her home whenever he needed a shoulder to cry on.

“She… she looks dead….” Joyce’s voice choked on a sob as she pushed some hair off Buffy’s face.

“She almost is, luv,” Spike said, gently putting an arm around her quaking shoulders. “I don’t think they’re going to be able to get enough blood into her quickly enough. I’m sorry, Joyce. Truly I am.”

He surprised himself by the truth of his words. Not only was he sorry for the obvious grief Buffy’s mother was about to suffer, but he was sorry to see the Slayer meet such a sad end.

_Drained by her git of a boyfriend to save his own worthless unlife. She deserved better, my beautiful, brave Slayer._

“Can’t you do something?” Joyce’s frantic plea brought his attention back to the dying girl on the table and he shook his head sadly.

“Believe me, Joyce, if there was anything I could do, I would do it. I don’t want to see her gone either.” 

He was shocked to find that the words he had thrown out so easily in an effort to make Buffy’s mother feel better, were actually a true reflection of his feelings.

“You could if you wanted to.” The desperation in Joyce’s voice cut him, even as he shook his head again. Refusing to give up, she faced him angrily. “You were dead once – and now you’re not!”

He stared at her in astonishment for a full second before stuttering, “You can’t be asking me… I _am_ dead, Joyce. It’s a demon that keeps this body going. You don’t want that for the—for Buffy. She wouldn’t want that.”

“I don’t care what she wants,” Joyce insisted stubbornly. “You could do it, couldn’t you?”

He tried to look away from her challenging stare, shaking his head back and forth.

“She’s a slayer, Joyce. She wouldn’t want to become one of the creatures she hunts. If I turn her, the first thing she’ll do when she wakes up is stake me. Right before she walks out into the sun, probably.”

“Why would she do that?” Joyce’s voice was shrill as she tried futilely to pull him closer to Buffy’s lifeless body.

“Because,” he tried to explain quickly, ”turned Slayers keep their souls. They don’t want to be vamps, they won’t feed, and they still want to slay. She’ll be furious that I’ve made her a vamp. She’ll kill me and she’ll be brassed off at you for asking me to do it. She’ll hate it, Joyce. I’m sure of it.”

“So, you won’t do it because you’re afraid of her. Is that it?” Joyce said dully, releasing his arm. She sat down beside her inert child and rested her head on the bed in a resigned fashion. “I’m going to lose my only child because you’re afraid she’ll stake you.”

“Oh, bloody hell!” Spike indulged a few seconds of creative swearing, before shoving Joyce roughly out of his way and bending over the dying slayer.

“Alright, luv. Doin’ this for your mum, so don’t be taking it out on me when you wake up. You hear me, Slayer?” he whispered as he removed the bloody rag from her neck. He cringed at the gaping wound his grandsire had made in the girl’s neck. “Bloody animal,” he muttered as he ran his tongue over the wound, licking up what little blood was left to ooze out and closing the edges of it at the same time. When he’d done what he could to make the bite less likely to leave a bad scar, and had swallowed as much of her blood as he could without actually trying to pull more from her body, he looked at her mother once again and asked quietly, “Are you sure?”

She nodded, her mouth set in a straight line and her hands clasped together so hard her knuckles were white. She met Spike’s gaze firmly until he sighed and turned back to the girl on the bed. He leaned across her body to place his lips on the other side of her neck, sliding his fangs in easily and taking one long pull of her blood before opening his mouth and licking the tiny wounds closed. The long draught of blood he’d taken had been the last straw for her heart and he could feel it stopping.

Quickly, he bit into his own wrist and held it to Buffy’s mouth, whispering into her ear as though her mother wasn’t sitting there listening to every word.

“Come on, pet. Show us what you’ve got. Bite me back, luv. Come on, Slayer, take it.” His voice trembled as he worried that he’d waited too long and the Slayer was too far gone to do what needed to be done. He pressed his bleeding wrist to her lips, forcing the blood into her mouth and waiting for her to swallow. He gave a sigh of relief when, from some hidden reserve of Slayer strength, she summoned the will to swallow the coppery tasting liquid flowing into her mouth.

“That’s my good girl. Drink it down, pet. Take as much as you want. I can get more. You take whatever you need from me, Slayer. Make yourself strong.”

Joyce watched – torn between horror at what she was witnessing, and hope that it was going to save her daughter’s life. When Buffy stopped swallowing and her head fell back against the pillow, Joyce jumped and asked, “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“She died, Joyce,” Spike said gently, licking his own wound closed before putting his arms around Buffy’s mother. When she flinched away from him, crying, “You were supposed to save her!” he sighed and dropped them to his sides. 

“She has to die before she can rise again, Joyce. Try not to let them take her anywhere tonight. If they put her in the morgue, I can probably break in and get her later. I’ll bring her home and she can wake up in her own bed instead of clawing her way out of a grave. And don’t tell the Watcher,” he warned with a low growl. “He’ll want to stake her.”

When Joyce didn’t reply, but just kept staring at Buffy’s lifeless body in horror, he whispered, “It worked. I promise you,” before he disappeared out the door into the darkened parking lot.

When Giles came back a few seconds later, dragging an over-worked doctor behind him, he found Joyce sobbing quietly as she held her daughter’s lifeless hand. With a moan of distress, he fell to his knees beside the bed, adding his own quiet sobs to Joyce’s.

The doctor quickly verified that they were mourning a dead girl; he was sympathetic, but all business. Drained, bloodless bodies were an every night occurrence at Sunnydale Memorial Hospital and he was just anxious to clear out the small room for the next victim. He nodded when Joyce asked in a trembling voice if she could let them know in the morning about funeral home arrangements and he readily agreed to keep Buffy’s body in the morgue overnight.

Giles’s sorrow was so obvious and so genuine, that Joyce had to fight the urge to tell him what she’d done, but she remembered what Spike had said about his staking Buffy if he thought she was turned and bit her lip instead. She couldn’t contain her own tears, even with Spike’s promise of success, the fact that her daughter was, for all intents and purposes, dead was too overwhelming and she did not have to fake her own grief.

Giles took her home, fixed them both stiff drinks, and eventually, when she assured him she would be fine, he left to go back to his apartment and drown his own grief in cheap scotch. Before leaving Joyce to her empty house, he promised her that he would tell Willow and Xander. By the time Joyce heard the quiet knock on the kitchen door, she was well on her way to being very drunk and she stumbled slightly as she made her way to the kitchen to let Spike and his precious burden in the door.

Buffy’s body was wrapped in a sheet and appeared very small in the vampire’s arms. He stepped into the kitchen and gave Joyce a reassuring nod as he walked towards the hallway and the stairs.

“You’ll have to tell me where to go, Joyce. I’ve never been upstairs.”

Shaking herself out of her stupor, she hastened to get in front of him, pointing at the stairs and saying, “This way. Her room is up here.”

He followed the nervous woman into a small, girlish bedroom – the décor showing the tastes of a girl on the verge of womanhood. Posters of boy bands coexisted with copies of Cosmo magazine; pajamas with fish all over them side by side with lacy underwear littered the floor.

He gently deposited his burden on the bed, holding her up until Joyce had turned down the covers and then allowing Buffy to sink onto her own sheets and pillows. He pulled the sheet that had been covering her face off to expose the white, still features of the Slayer. Joyce gave a little gasp; then regained control asked in a trembling voice, “How… how long?”

“Probably tomorrow night,” he answered, stepping away from the bed. “I’ll try to be back before sundown in case she rises early.”

“What if you’re not here? What do I do? Will she know me?”

Second thoughts were clearly visible on Joyce’s face and Spike’s eyes flashed amber for a second. 

“If you’re going to change your mind on me, say so now,” he growled. “If you don’t want her here, tell me and I’ll take her somewhere safe.”

Now that he’d done what Buffy’s mother had asked, he realized that he had done something he’d sworn never to do – he’d created a childe. He hadn’t actually been the one to take Buffy’s life, but he’d given her as much of his own blood as he could get her to take and he now felt more than responsible for the soon-to-be-fledgling vampire lying in front of them. 

He actually had no idea what Buffy was going to be like when she rose. Even with her soul, he had to assume that the blood lust would be overwhelming and he vowed silently to be there in plenty of time to protect Joyce from her daughter just in case.

“No, no,” Joyce hastened to assure him. “I haven’t changed my mind. I’m just not sure what to expect, that’s all.”

“Neither am I, to tell you the truth,” he admitted sheepishly. “It’s very rare that a slayer gets turned and I’ve never been around one that was. I just hope she doesn’t hate us both.”

“Doesn’t she already hate you?” Joyce asked innocently.

With a rueful laugh, he agreed. “That she does. ‘S going to make her even more brassed off when she finds out who did it. I’m planning to point at you and run, soon’s I see she’s alright.”

“William the bloody coward,” Joyce muttered, but she gave him a small smile.

“Your daughter’s a right scary bint under the best of circumstances.” He smiled back at her. “It’s not cowardice, it’s self-preservation.”

Unconsciously smoothing Buffy’s hair off her face, he stared at her for a minute before straightening up and walking towards the door.  
“I’ll be back sometime tomorrow afternoon, Joyce. Leave the back door unlocked, will you? I ‘spect I’ll be in a bit of a hurry to get indoors at that time of day.”

She agreed absently, still staring at her daughter’s dead body and praying that she’d done the right thing. 

 

**Chapter Two**

True to his word, Spike was back by three the following afternoon, bursting through the kitchen door with a smoking blanket over his head. He dropped the blanket on the floor and quickly stamped out the small sparks covering it.

Joyce, of course, as befitted someone whose child had died, had not gone into her gallery that day; telling her employees only that something very bad had happened to Buffy and she needed to stay home with her. She felt that covered her either way the evening went. If Buffy rose and was herself, she would explain that she’d been very sick; if she didn’t, remaining dead, as Joyce feared would happen, then she would tell them that Buffy had died in an accident.

“How is she?” The first words out of his mouth were for his new childe, and Joyce smiled at the concern she could read on his face.

“The same,” she answered with a whisper. “I… I’ve been afraid to touch her. She’s so cold and still….”

Spike held out his hand and waited until Joyce took it with a puzzled frown.

“That’s what she’s going to feel like from now on, Joyce. Room temperature. She’ll be a bit warmer after a—” He stopped himself, suddenly remembering that he was talking about a souled Slayer who was unlikely to be getting her meals from warm, living victims. Trying to recover, he said quickly, “A warm mug of blood – which I should have thought to bring with me.”

“I… I went to the butcher and got some earlier today,” Joyce admitted sheepishly. “I thought you might be hungry and….”

Spike felt a sudden attack of an emotion he finally recognized as guilt when he thought about the two men he’d eaten last night. Giving himself a mental shake at his weakness, he growled, “That’s very thoughtful of you, but I’m fine. Slayer will need it though – soon as she wakes up and—”

He looked hard at the woman in front of him and saw that she was barely holding herself together, in spite of the appearance she gave of being in control and comfortable with what she’d asked him to do.

“I think,” he said gently, “that I’d better be the only one she sees when she rises. I’ll need to let her drink from me again to calm the blood lust before she sees you. I don’t think you’d want to see that, and I doubt she would want you to.”

“But—” Joyce stopped herself in mid-argument as she understood what he was saying. With a shudder, she agreed quickly, promising to stay downstairs until he called her.

After telling her he would let her know when to come up, and reminding her to bring a warm mug of blood with her when she did, he gave her a reassuring smile and went up the stairs and into the room holding the girl who had been the bane of his existence the entire previous year. Staring down at her seemingly dead body, he wondered how he’d gotten himself into this. Instead of killing what was meant to be his third Slayer, he’d let this one take his blood as a way to keep her in the world where, he was sure, she would continue to make his life miserable – if she allowed him to live.

He shrugged out of his duster and stretched out on the bed beside her, waiting for a sign that she was awakening. While he waited, he studied her face, wondering what it was about this little girl that made her so much more than just another slayer. He caught himself running his fingers through her still silky hair and snatched his hand back with a growl.

_Bloody hell, letting her drink from me must have affected my brain! Got to admit, she is a pretty bint, though…._

He caught sight of the corner of the sheet she’d been wrapped in and realized that Joyce hadn’t touched Buffy since they had put her in her bed. He sat up suddenly, wondering if she was still as naked as when he’d snatched her from her slab in the morgue. Moving carefully, he lifted the edge of the blanket and saw that she was still trussed up in the hospital sheet. Knowing that waking up was going to be traumatic enough, even without a grave to dig out of, he tried to pull the tight sheet out from under her body.

Once he realized that wasn’t going to work, he reached over her, lifting her body up until he could unwind the sheet and toss it on the floor. That left him with an armful of naked, dead Slayer. A naked, dead Slayer whose eyes were now open and fixed on him with bewildered rage.

“Spike? What the hell are you doing? And why am I naked?” Buffy’s voice went up an octave when she looked down at herself and saw that not only was she being held by the vampire she hated most, she was stark naked and said vampire was staring at her breasts.

“Stop ogling me!” 

She shocked them both when her shout turned into a snarl and she went into vamp face. Forgetting about the vampire still holding her loosely, she raised a shaking hand to her face, feeling her wrinkled forehead and running a cautious finger along one sharp fang. As though the transformation had thrown a switch, her eyes focused on his neck and her tongue came out to lick her lips. She threw a questioning look at the equally surprised vampire and, at his silent nod of permission, leaned forward and sank her new fangs into his jugular.

Spike gave an involuntary groan as, with a hungry whimper, she began to take long, deep pulls of his blood. Pulls that he felt all the way down to his rapidly hardening cock. Buffy surged forward, pressing her body into his and growling softly as she swallowed the borrowed blood that he’d had the foresight to stock up on the night before.

Spike let her drink until he felt himself begin to weaken, then he tried to push her away, only to be met with a furious growl and a tightening of the arms around his body. As wonderful as it felt to have an armful of naked Slayer – he refused to admit to himself exactly how good that felt – he knew he had to make her stop before she left him too weak to hunt.

Using a sire’s voice he hadn’t even known he owned, he snarled back at her, “Leave off, childe!”

Buffy immediately let go, sinking back on her haunches and poking out her lower lip in a pout. As her face smoothed back out into its normal human guise, the blood lust faded and she realized what she’d been doing. Her face crumpled and she moaned, putting one hand over her mouth, tears starting from the eyes that met his in horror.

“Spike… what did you… how could you… what happened to me?”

Without thinking, he pulled her into his chest, relieved when she didn’t push him away and reach for a stake. He held her while she sobbed, murmuring into her ear that it would be alright, that he would explain, that she shouldn’t be upset. He ran his hands over the smooth skin on her back, rubbing small soothing circles as he tried to calm her. Her sobs finally tapered off and they were suddenly both very conscious of her nudity. Refusing to meet his eyes, she sniffled as she pulled away and tried to cover herself.

Moving quickly, Spike jumped off the bed and yanked the blankets to where she could reach them and pull them up to her neck. She stared around the room, seeing nothing to indicate it wasn’t really her own bedroom, then glared back at his anxious face. Gradually, the frightened fledgling was replaced with an angry Slayer and she said firmly, “Tell me what happened to me. Now.”

Spike sighed and sat on the little stool in front of her dressing table, his hands dangled between his knees as he leaned forward and asked, “What’s the last thing you remember, luv?”

Buffy’s face crinkled in thought as she tried to remember what she’d been doing the last time she was conscious. He could see the instant her memory caught up with the events of the previous evening and her eyes filled again as she gasped, “Angel? Angel did this to me?”

Spike shook his head, looking around quickly to see if there were any stakes within easy reach of the stricken Slayer.

“No, pet. All that bloody wanker did was rip your throat out and drain you. Dumped you at the ER in front of your mum and your watcher and told them ‘sorry’ before walking out for a round of brooding.”

“So, then, why am I not dead… er, deader?”

“Your mum, she was so… and I said ‘no’, but she… and then I said you’d hate us both… and she….” He saw the gradually dawning of realization on her face and said simply, “I’m sorry, pet. I just couldn’t tell her ‘no’.”

“It’s a small word, Spike! NO! N.O. You hate me that much?” Her voice had trailed off to a painful whisper.

Forgetting his fear for a second, he slid off the stool on to his knees in front of her.

“No, pet. No. It wasn’t like that. I would have let you go. Would have let you have that reward you’ve got coming. I would have, I swear. Mind you, I’m not saying I wouldn’t have missed you. Fighting against you – hell, fighting with you – it’s one of my favorite things. But I… I wouldn’t have done that to you. You’ve got to believe me, Slayer.”

His eyes pleaded with her, and as she looked down to see him kneeling in front of her, the truth of what he was saying was plain to see. Her expression softened just enough for him to draw a deep breath and continue, “But your mum… she was destroyed. And she asked me… and I… I just couldn’t tell her ‘no’, Buffy. She’s always been so good to me. Always fixes me hot chocolate… tells me I’m too good for Drusilla… treats me like a man, your mum does. I just… I wanted to make her happy, luv. I’m sorry.” 

He dropped his head, ready to bolt or fight if necessary, but heartened by the lack of lethal response on her part. He waited quietly until she reached a shaking hand toward his face; then he looked back up into her searching gaze.

“What—what now?” she asked in a trembling voice. “I’m a vampire, Spike. What’s going to stop me from killing my own mother? Who’s going to protect my friends from me?”

“You are, Buffy,” he answered with more certainty than he actually felt. “You still have your soul, pet. It’s why nobody in his right mind turns a slayer. The first thing she does, usually, is dust her sire.”

“First thing, huh?” She looked at him with the faintest trace of her normal humor. “So, is that like a tradition or something?”

“Not one you need to feel obligated to continue,” he answered, peering at her from under his long eyelashes.

“So, I’m not going to want to kill everybody I know? Present company excepted, of course. No offense.”

“None taken, Slayer,” he responded with a genuine grin. “I don’t think so. Your mum’s waiting downstairs with some nice warm pigs’ blood – although I think I need it more than you do right now. You almost drained me.”

“Uh, sorry?” She smiled sheepishly, clutching the covers to her breasts.

“’S alright, pet. It’ll make you strong – that much sire’s blood. I’ll just go tell your mum that you’re awake and you can get dressed and come down when you’re ready, yeah?”

“Okay,” she responded slowly, already dropping the blankets and standing up. She heard Spike catch his breath with a gasp, and glanced at him briefly before walking to her closet. “I guess you’ve already seen it, so there’s no sense being modest in front of you is there?”

“Oh, yeah there is, there most definitely is.”

His strangled voice brought her attention back to him and the look on his face froze her. The expression on Spike’s face as he visibly struggled to control himself, brought her modesty back in a hurry. She felt her face heat up and wondered briefly if it was possible for a vampire to blush. A quick glance at her empty mirror was a painful reminder that she would only know the answer to that question if someone told her about it.

She tried to cover herself with her hands; then spotted his duster where he’d dropped it earlier. Grabbing the coat, she wrapped herself in the soft leather saying, “Why don’t you go downstairs and get some blood for yourself. I’ll be down as soon as I get some clothes on.”

“I’m gonna be needing m’ coat, luv,” he said mildly.

“Don’t be silly, Spike. You don’t get cold and you’re inside, anyway. I’ll bring it down in a minute. You don’t need it.”

“I do need it.” he said firmly. “Not going down to your mum like this.”

“Like what?” She scanned his face, then ran her eyes down his body trying to see what made him think he needed his coat right that minute. Her gaze slid down his chest, the muscles clearly visible beneath the tight tee shirt he was wearing and past his belt buckle and lower abdomen to his strong thighs. Before her eyes could travel any further down his legs, she gasped and her eyes shot back up to the large bulge in his tight jeans. Once again she felt her face trying to flush.

“Oh,” she squeaked. “Okay, just a sec…”

She quickly ducked behind her closet door, holding his coat out at the end of one slender arm and shaking it lightly.

“Here you go. Take it. My mom definitely does not need to see that coming out of my bedroom!”

Spike bit his tongue to keep from pointing out that her mother would probably much rather see him coming out of her room with a hard-on than entering it like that. Fear that she was still contemplating staking him kept his mouth uncharacteristically shut, but the smirk gave him away. A pair of furious eyes peered around the corner of the closet door at him.

“And stop thinking what you’re thinking!” she growled. “Go away. I’ll be down in a couple of minutes.”

Wrapping himself in his coat, he smirked again, then left the room, meeting her anxious mother at the bottom of the stairs and taking her arm to steer her towards the kitchen.

“She’ll be down in a few minutes, Joyce. Let’s go to the kitchen. I’m a mite peckish after all.”

“Is she…?”

“She’s awake, she’s fed,” he pointed at the ragged bite on his neck, gratified when Joyce went immediately to get the first aid kit, “and she’s getting dressed.”

“Is she angry at us… me?”

“She was a bit upset at first, but I think she’ll be alright. I ‘spect it’s going to take her a good while to get used to it, and she’ll probably cuss us every time something reminds her, but I’m not dust yet, so that’s a good sign.”

 

**Chapter Three**

 

While Joyce took some blood from the fridge and poured it into a mug, Spike used the first aid kit to clean the edges of the wound Buffy had given him. He knew it would heal soon, no matter what he did, but he didn’t want to ooze blood all over the Summers’ kitchen. Buffy, dressed in sweat pants and a tee shirt, walked in just as he was trying to tie a bandage around his neck.

“What are you doing?” she asked, avoiding the anxious eyes her mother had turned on her as soon as she heard her daughter’s voice.

“Don’t want to bleed all over your mum’s kitchen, pet. Just trying to stop it.”

“Oh – I did that, didn’t I? I’m sorry, Spike. Here, let me fix it.” 

She reached for the bandage, still not looking at her mother’s rapidly crumpling face. Spike put his hand over hers and whispered too low for anyone without vampire hearing, “You could fix it much quicker just by running your tongue over it; but right now I think you need to talk to your mum.”

“My tongue? You mean – lick you? Ewwww!”

“You just bit me and took enough blood to choke a horse! Now you’re going to be prissy about closing the wound? Anyway, you’re just doing this to avoid talking to your mother. I know it and you know it, so quit pretending you’re concerned about me and do what you know you need to do.”

“Don’t tell me what I need to do!”

Joyce watched in bewilderment as her daughter and Spike clearly carried on an argument is hisses too low for her to catch a word of it. When Buffy continued to glare stubbornly at the equally angry vampire, she finally couldn’t stand it anymore and she gave a small whimpered, “Buffy?”

Buffy went rigid, then pulled her hand out of Spike’s and turned slowly to face her mother. She could hear Joyce’s rapid heartbeat, sense the hot blood rushing through her veins, but relaxed a little when there was no immediate urge to attack or kill.

“Mom,” she said quietly, not moving towards the older woman, but stepping away from Spike.

He watched closely for any sign that his childe was going to be unable to control her blood lust, but Buffy seemed to be completely in control of herself. When she moved towards her mother, he stood up, ready to intervene if necessary. The two women stared at each other momentarily, then Joyce gave into her fear that she’d alienated her only child and collapsed in tears.

“I’m sorry, Buffy. I’m so sorry. I just couldn’t watch you die… It wasn’t Spike’s fault. He tried to talk me out of it, but I made him do it.”

“Nobody makes Spike do anything,” Buffy growled with a sideways glare at the vampire who had sired her. 

When Joyce continued to sob, Buffy’s resolve crumbled and she sank down beside her, wrapping her arms around her and hugging her tightly.

“It’s all right, Mom. I know you did it because you love me. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. It’s all right.” 

The reversal of their normal roles was not lost on either of them as the adult woman cried and her teen-aged daughter comforted her. Spike maintained an alert posture, but from a respectful distance. Without the blood Buffy had pulled from him when she rose, he wasn’t sure that he would be able to stop her if she actually decided to attack Joyce, but knew she’d never forgive him if he allowed her to hurt her mother.

Buffy looked up at the edgy vampire and met his eyes briefly while maintaining her comforting murmurs to her mother. The understanding dawning in her expressive eyes told him he could relax. The Slayer’s soul was in complete possession of her body and both her mother and he were safe from her anger.

With a nod, he sank back onto the stool and waited for them to finish their tearful reunion. When it lasted longer than he expected, he stood up and took the mug of blood Joyce had poured for Buffy and put it in the microwave. By the time it dinged, the women were back on their feet and smiling happily at each other and he was fighting a peculiar prickling in his own eyes. 

Grumbling about “women and their tears”, the embarrassed vampire took out his blood and returned to the stool, studiously avoiding looking at either one of them. It did him no good to pretend they weren’t there, as Joyce came up beside him and kissed him softly on the cheek saying with heartfelt gratitude, “Thank you, William, for saving my daughter.”

With his body as depleted as it was, he had to struggle not to slip into his vampire face when the warm, blood-filled body got so close to him. He quickly drank his blood, trying not to offend Joyce by pulling away, but worried about his own self-control. To his surprise, Buffy seemed to read the situation intuitively, and she took her mother’s arm and pulled her away saying, “Come help me fix some blood for myself, Mom, and let Spike drink his in peace.”

He gave Buffy a surprised and grateful look, quickly draining his mug and silently holding it out for more. She removed the new mug from the microwave and handed it to him before refilling the first one and popping it in to warm up.

Another quick guzzle and he was enough in control to sit back and enjoy his third mug of blood while Buffy sipped on her first one. He laughed softly when she wrinkled her nose and made a face at her first taste of pigs’ blood. 

“Problem, pet?” he asked with a smirk.

“It tasted better from you,” she mumbled, embarrassed by her admission, but unable to take it back quickly enough to prevent the smirk from growing into a grin.

Spike enjoyed her embarrassment for a minute before taking pity on her and agreeing, “That was sire’s blood, pet. It will always taste better than anything else. And be better for you. Will help you heal if you’re hurt and feel better when you’re… well, not that you’ll be sad about anything… but if you were….”

“So you’re what? My own annoying and fashion-challenged medicine cabinet?” Buffy’s smile took the sting out of her words and he smiled back before continuing.

“Something like that, Slayer. It’s really not in your best interest to dust me. In fact, if I were you, I’d be following me around making sure nothing bad was going to happen to me….”

“Don’t push it, Spike,” she warned, laughing in spite of herself. 

They drank in companionable silence for several minutes while Joyce bustled back and forth from one to the other fussing over them like a mother hen until Buffy finally exploded, “Mom! I’m dead – not sick! Relax, will you? We’re fine. Both of us. Instead of worrying about us, you need to think about how you’re going to explain to Giles that I’m not dead. Or, not as dead as he thinks I am, anyway.”

“I… um… I thought perhaps you would do that, dear. I mean, he is your Watcher, and....”

“Oh no. This was your idea. You tell him. And you need to do it before he finds out some other way and tries to stake us.”

“Oh. Oh dear. I hadn’t thought about that. That I would have to explain it to him. And school. What are we going to do about school? It’s in the daytime and you won’t be…. Oh dear, oh dear.”

Joyce sat down with a stunned look on her face, the full ramifications of what she’d done beginning to sink in. She looked at Buffy with new realization about the way she’d changed her daughter’s life and whispered softly, “I’m sorry. I never thought past my own happiness. I never thought about how it was going to change your life.”

Buffy jumped up and ran to her mother, hugging her again and reassuring her that all things considered, “… being undead is probably better than being dead dead. Look, I’ll still be the Slayer – just harder to kill. And I’ll heal even faster. I might even be stronger than before—” She stopped to giggle at the frightened look on Spike’s face, before going on. “I just have some learning to do – and you’ll have to help me with some stuff – like I won’t be able to see to put on make-up or fix my hair, or tell if a dress makes me look fat—”

A laugh from the vampire that he tried to cover with a cough interrupted her long enough for her to glare at him.

“And Spike’s going to have to teach me all about being a vampire…well, maybe not. I guess Angel knows more about being a vampire with a soul—”

A guttural snarl from her vamped out sire cut her off and both women turned to stare at him in dismay. With an effort, he conquered his demon’s urge to discipline his childe for even mentioning the other vampire and he fought to keep his voice even as he said, “Angel drained you and left you to die. He didn’t even have the balls to hang around long enough to watch you take your last breath.”

“But… but he’s still my….” a quick glance at her mother and she switched the intended “lover” to “boyfriend”, a hesitation that was not lost on either of the other people in the room.

“Buffy,” Joyce said firmly, “You know I’ve never liked Angel anyway, but now… there is no way I will ever be able to look at him and not see your dying, bleeding body. He is not welcome in this house. Ever.”

“But, Mooom.” Suddenly the newly risen vampire sounded just like a teen-aged girl. “I love him! I mean… I know we can’t be together… but we’re still friends.” 

She shot Spike a look, daring him to repeat his “you’ll never be friends” speech in front of her mother, but to her surprise he was looking at her with a mixture of pain and anger. He stood up, putting his empty mug in the sink and turning towards the door.

“I’ll just be going then,” he said coldly. “You won’t be needing me anymore if you’ve got the big poof to show you the ropes. See you around the graveyard, Slayer.”

Without a backward glance, he went out the door, resisting the urge to slam it shut behind him. He was almost to the sidewalk, keys in hand when he saw Giles drive up to the house, a hollow-eyed Xander and Willow in the car. Fear for his childe’s safety being stronger than his anger and hurt feelings, he shrank back into the shadows as the three walked up and knocked on the door. While Joyce slowly opened the front door, Spike ran back around to the kitchen and entered quietly, moving to where he could see and hear what was going on without being seen.

Willow had thrown herself into Joyce’s arms, sobbing her sympathy and grief, while Xander stood by with tears filling his own eyes. Joyce allowed Willow to cry for a minute, then gently extricated herself and gestured to the couch.

“I think you all need to sit down. I have something I need to tell you.”

“We know,” Xander choked out. “Giles already told us. Angel killed Buffy. We always knew he would someday.”

Joyce just pointed to the couch again and said with some asperity, “That is not what I need to tell you. Please, sit down and let me explain.”

When they were seated and looking at her expectantly, she began with some trepidation.

“Angel did… kill… Buffy. But before she died, I asked a friend to help me save her.” 

She saw the Watcher’s eyes darken with horror as he began to fear what she was going to say next. He surreptitiously slipped a stake from his pocket and held it loosely in his hand, causing Spike to give a muffled growl as he saw the movement from his vantage point in the hallway.

He heard a whisper of sound behind him and saw Buffy coming slowly down the stairs. She entered the living room and gave a little wave saying, her voice a little shaky, “Hi, guys.”

 

**Chapter Four**

Willow and Xander looked at Giles for an explanation; wondering why the man had told them Buffy was dead when she was clearly right there in front of them. Joyce met his angry glare defiantly, nodding briefly when he asked through clenched teeth, “Spike? Spike did this?”

As Willow ran to embrace her friend, babbling about how glad she was to know Giles had been wrong about her death, the Watcher grabbed her arm and threw her back onto the couch shouting, “Stay away from her! Can’t you see she’s a vampire?”

Buffy’s face crumpled and she held out a hand pleading with her Watcher, “I’m still me, Giles. I have my soul and every thin—" The man moved with a speed no one could have predicted, his stake on a direct line with Buffy’s heart.

Joyce’s cry went unheard, and her ordinary human reactions were too slow to halt the attack on her unprepared daughter. Buffy was so heartbroken at the sudden attack that her normal Slayer reflexes deserted her as she waited in shock for the man she loved like a father to kill her. Spike, however, having anticipated the strike, was already moving and he knocked the stake away from Buffy’s chest, carrying Giles to the floor as he did so. He quickly flipped the man over, pinning his arms behind his back and snarling at him.

“You stupid git. Give the girl a chance to explain.”

“I don’t need an explanation. It’s plain to see. You turned her. I cannot believe even you could have been so evil.”

Spike yanked the man up to a sitting position, keeping his arms pinned behind his back and snarled into his ear, “Shut up and listen, you bloody fool.”

The vampire nodded to Joyce who, though visibly shaken, continued as though the interruption had not occurred. She kept one arm around her still shaking daughter as she went on.

“This was not Spike’s idea. I begged him. I blackmailed him. I used every trick I could think of to get him to agree to do it. He did it for me, knowing that Buffy’s first act as a vampire might very well be to stake him. He didn’t do it because he is evil; he did it because he is a compassionate man.”

Ignoring the Watcher’s audible scoff, she looked at Buffy’s two friends instead.

“Turned Slayers keep their souls. Buffy is no more dangerous to us now than she ever was. She is drinking pigs’ blood and has no interest in killing humans.”

Only Spike noticed the guilty flinch at Joyce’s words and he knew that soul or no soul, Buffy would be fighting the desire for human blood her entire unlife. 

“We will all have a lot of adjusting to do, obviously.” She spared a glare for the now-quiet man Spike was still holding. “But I’m sure we can work with this. I don’t know what we’ll do about school, but I still have my daughter and she is still able to fulfill her duties as a slayer, so I fail to see why this is not the best possible outcome of a horrible situation.”

Joyce finished her speech with her chin up and a final challenging look around the room. Spike maintained his grip on Giles, even though the man had stopped struggling and was just sitting quietly watching the interaction between Buffy and her friends. The newly vamped slayer gave them a tentative smile, but waited for them to approach her before relaxing and falling into a group hug.

Joyce beamed proudly as the three friends appeared to fall right back into their normal behaviors, jostling each other for space on the couch and arguing over whether or not to watch a movie or go to the Bronze to celebrate. When she turned her gaze onto the watcher, her eyes narrowed and she knelt down to his level.

“I have to know you are all right with this, Rupert. I can’t be worrying that my daughter’s own Watcher is going to stake her.”

“I believe,” the man said grimly, ”that it is too early for me to make that decision. I have seen that she appears to be harmless around you and her friends, but that doesn’t mean strangers would be safe in her company. Particularly bleeding strangers.”

“We’re not animals, Watcher,” Spike growled in his ear. “Contrary to what your Council of Wankers may have told you, most vamps have complete control of themselves unless they’re starving. The Slayer having her soul means she’s just that much more in control.”

“I am willing to give her the benefit of the doubt for the time being,” the man answered stiffly, “but I will not forget that you were the one to turn my Slayer into something she hates.”

“And I won’t be forgetting that you tried to stake my childe,” Spike responded, his mild tone belied by the amber glint of his eyes as he let go of Giles’s arms and stood up.

“Thank you, Spike,” Joyce said sincerely. 

“No problem,” he mumbled, wondering how he could gracefully leave the house without completely negating his earlier dramatic exit. He was saved from worrying about it when Buffy left her friends and came to stand beside him to add her own mumbled thanks to her mother’s. 

While Joyce pulled Giles into the kitchen for some tea and a serious conversation about Buffy’s new status, the Slayer and her sire stood uncomfortably, neither one wanting to apologize for their earlier behavior and yet knowing that they should. With a final, exasperated sigh, Spike growled, “I shouldn’t have gone off in a huff like that. Almost got you killed. Not much of a sire, am I?” he added, looking down at his boots.

Recognizing the apology for what it was, Buffy softened her own stance and said, “You’re doing fine. I’m sure ‘how to sire a slayer’ isn’t in the vampire handbook. It’s probably going to take us awhile to work this out.”

“We’ve got time,” he said with a small grin. “You’re immortal like me, now.” A look of mock horror crossed his face. “Bloody hell! I made the bane of my existence immortal. What was I thinkin’?”

Buffy gave him a half-serious glare before she said, “And I have to look forward to being annoyed by you for the rest of my life? What _were_ you thinking?”

“Guess we’re gonna have to learn to like each other a little bit, pet,” he said with a smirk.

“Well, we’ll at least have to learn to get along. We can’t be fighting all the time—”

“If it’s all the same to you, Slayer, I’d rather like you and fight you than get along. ‘s more fun.”

She tossed her hair and turned around to go back to her friends, throwing over her shoulder, “Yeah, beating you up has always been one of my favorite things to do.”

He gave a half-hearted growl, smiling to see her laughing and seemingly carefree. In spite of his assurances to Joyce that she would have her soul and be fine, he’d really had no idea how Buffy was going to react to being a vampire and he breathed a mental sigh of relief that she seemed to be handling it so well.

The relief lasted until they left the house so that Buffy could practice with her new vampire enhancements and do a short patrol. Once away from her mother and friends, she slid into a morose silence, only speaking when she needed to ask a question.

The Slayer had been forced to admit that having enhanced hearing and night vision was definitely a plus in her line of work. However, her ability to fool vamps into thinking she was an easy dinner was now gone as it took them no time at all to pick up on her lack of heartbeat and lose interest.

The only time all night that she seemed happy was when they encountered a group of the mayor’s minions and between the two of them managed to dust all but one. The one that got away made it only a few hundred yards before running into the stake Angel was holding. Spike felt his grandsire at the same time that Buffy was jumping to the top of a mausoleum to test her newly enhanced physical abilities. He quickly leapt up beside her and grabbed her arm to hold her still.

She had been spinning around, practicing her kicks when he landed beside her and she spun right into him, slamming hard into his chest. He held her by the arms until she caught her balance, not sure if he was willing to let her go. Buffy didn’t pull away, but remained still in his arms, her face tilted towards his, head cocked slightly in curiosity.

“What?” she breathed softly, wondering how much of what she was beginning to feel towards Spike was sire/childe bond and how much was something she’d rather not put a name to. Remembering the expression on his face when she had walked naked across her room, she swallowed hard. With her newly acute vision, she could see that he was wearing a similar look as his face came closer to hers.

A renewed sense of Angel’s presence reminded him of his original intention and he shook himself slightly before whispering, “Let out your senses, luv. Can you feel that?”

“I feel… it’s like when I used to be able to feel vamps, except that… it’s Angel!”

She stared around quickly, moving away from him without even thinking about it and thereby missing the look of disappointment on his face. As she gave in to her new senses, she realized there was something more to this than just her former ability to sense Angel’s signature. Something both familiar and foreign at the same time.

“It… it feels like you. Only not.” She fumbled for words to express the sensation tickling the back of her neck.

“It’s family, luv. What you’re feeling is family. You’ll always know when one of us is around – Dru too. And as soon as the ponce gets close enough, he’s going to know it.”

“He’s going to wig,” Buffy said with a certainly that he couldn’t deny.

“Most likely,” he agreed. He prepared himself for the fight of his life, fully expecting his grandsire to try to stake both of them. Beside him, Buffy fell into a fighting stance, unconsciously imitating her sire’s prediction of danger.

To the surprise of both, the older member of the Aurelian family stopped below the crypt and looked up at them calmly.

“Come down,” he said quietly. “I’m not going to stake you.”

“Know you’re not _going_ to,” Spike grumbled, gesturing for Buffy to let him go first. “The question is are you going to _try_?”

Buffy landed lightly beside her sire, and Angel watched while they jostled each other for position, each trying to protect the other from the possible danger presented by the souled vampire. He soon tired of watching the girl he thought he’d lost forever and the grandchilde he wished he could lose forever trying to protect each other from him.

“Stop all that jumping around,” he growled. “I’m not going to stake either one of you.”

“Why not?” Spike inquired, his eyes narrowed with suspicion.

Angel gave a heavy sigh and rolled his eyes. “Because I’ve spoken to Giles and to Joyce and given them my word I would leave you two alone unless—until,” he said more forcefully with a glare at Spike, “you give me a reason not to.”

“I have my soul, Angel,” Buffy said plaintively. “Why would you want to stake me?”

“I was actually thinking more about staking him." He gestured at Spike. “I would think you’d want to thank me for getting rid of the vamp that turned you.”

“As opposed to the one who just killed me and left me to die in front of my mother?” she replied with an edge in her voice.

Angel gave her his best hurt expression. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am about that, Buffy. I tried to tell you not to offer me your neck. You know what demons are like – I couldn’t control it.”

Spike’s muffled, “Bollocks!” was unnecessary as Buffy was already scoffing at Angel’s excuse for draining her.

“I’ve only been a vampire for a few hours and I already know better than that.” Her face fell and she added sadly, “I trusted you, Angel. I trusted you to only take what you needed.” 

“Buffy, I was sick. I was dying. Angelus….”

She held up her hand for him to stop. “Please don’t give me that Angel/Angelus crap again. Spike doesn’t have a soul to keep his demon down and I would trust him with the lives of my mother and my friends no matter what the circumstances. Just… just stay away from me for a while, okay?”

With a parting glare at his smirking grandchilde, Angel nodded and turned away, too lost in his own misery to notice that Buffy had turned around and punched Spike in the face.

“Ow! What the hell was that for?” He vamped out and snarled at her.

“That was for making fun of Angel behind my back!” she snapped back at him, her own eyes glowing amber. “Do you think I’m stupid?”

His automatic retort was short circuited by the tears he saw her trying to blink away and he dropped his hands to his sides. One look at the stubborn tilt to her chin and he knew she did not want him to know she was crying, so he busied himself pulling out a cigarette and lighting it while she struggled for control. As soon as she had taken a deep, unnecessary breath and begun walking home he fell into step beside her, smoking quietly.

They walked in silence until they reached her house, stopping on the front porch and sitting in unison on the top step.

Buffy waved her hand at the smoke drifting towards her, growling when Spike just took another drag and blew a smoke ring at her face.

“’S not like you’re going to get lung cancer, Slayer,” he said mildly. 

“That is sooo not the point,” she grumbled, unconsciously moving closer to him until she was leaning into his shoulder. When she realized what she’d done, she sat up quickly, sending a sideways look at him to see what kind of reaction her unexpected behavior had evoked. 

“I… I don’t know why I did that,” she stammered.

“Wasn’t complainin’, luv,” he answered quietly. 

“Why not?” Her curiosity was sincere. “We still hate each other, don’t we?”

He cut his eyes at her and threw the cigarette out into the yard, waiting until it had sputtered out to answer her.

“Can’t speak for you, Slayer, but I don’t think I gave you unlife just so I could go on hating you a little longer.”

“I thought you did it for my mother.”

“Did. Just turns out it might have made my life a bit more interesting too.”

It was as close as he was going to come to admitting to himself or to her how glad he was that she was still in the world. Instead of responding, she rested her head back on his shoulder and the Slayer of Slayers and his newly risen childe sat together quietly enjoying what was left of the night, leaving until later the tedious business of sorting out their new relationship.

 

The End

 

 

Author notes and summary: The sequel to A Mother’s Plea. More has changed than just Buffy’s status as a human….

**Born To Be My Baby**

**Chapter One**

Settling into the life of a teen-aged vampire who was also the resident Vampire Slayer turned out to be trickier than anyone could have predicted. Joyce was able to withdraw Buffy from high school, getting no argument from Principal Snyder when she said her daughter would be better off finishing her senior year on her own and taking the required test to get her GED. As many times as he’d tried to expel the Summers girl from his high school, he chose to view her voluntary withdrawal as a victory of sorts, and his knowing smirk had Joyce fighting to restrain herself.

She left his office and went immediately to the school library where she spent the next hour ranting to Giles about his employer and what she would like to do to him.

“I’m tempted to ask Spike to turn him, just so I can watch Buffy drive a stake through his evil little heart,” she grumbled as she ran out of names to call the man.

“I sincerely hope you are not serious about that threat, Joyce.” His voice held a trace of panic as he looked at the angry woman. “You cannot use William the Bloody as your own personal--”

“Oh, relax, Rupert. I’m not serious. That was a one-time thing, to save my daughter. I don’t plan to make Spike a hired assassin.”

“You do understand that most people would not consider having a vampire drain and turn a girl to be ‘saving her’, do you not?” Giles asked with a frown. “I am quite certain the Council of Watchers would not see it that way at all.”

“You haven’t told them, have you?” Joyce’s voice climbed to a higher register and her eyes widened.

“No, Joyce,” he sighed. “I haven’t told them. I felt it was more appropriate that I give Buffy a chance to become accustomed to her new… lifestyle and to decide for myself what seemed the best way to handle this situation. I am hoping they will not notice, as long as she continues to meet her obligations as the Slayer.”

“She’s been going out every night and patrolling, just as she did before,” Joyce said loyally. “And she’s trying to find out more about the Mayor and his plans….”

“Yes, yes. I think we’ve pretty much worked out what we can do to prevent the Ascension. The problem may lie in getting Buffy in to the ceremony now that she is no longer a graduating senior.”

“I think Angel and Spike are going to help with that,” Joyce said quietly. “Although no one actually tells me anything. I have to guess what’s going on from bits and pieces of conversations.”

Giles interrupted her rambling complaint to ask, “Spike and Angel? They are working together?”

“Well, not so much together,” Joyce admitted. “For one thing, I will not have the man – vampire – who killed my daughter in my house; so whatever conversations she has with Angel take place over the phone or elsewhere. And Spike gets very… testy when Angel’s name is mentioned, so Buffy tends not to discuss her plans in front of him.”

“I must say, I am impressed and surprised that Spike has remained in Sunnydale so long. I did not expect him to take his responsibilities so seriously.”

“He takes them very seriously,” Joyce said, nodding her head. “Buffy is the only childe he has ever made and he is very concerned that he handle it well. I believe it is one of the issues between him and Angel.”

“He never made a childe before?” The watcher had not realized that Buffy was Spike’s first childe. The Watchers’ Diaries were not very clear about just what was involved in siring a childe as opposed to simply creating a minion, but he knew there was a difference and that there were duties and obligations to be met on both sides. 

“No. Until recently, he apparently felt his life was quite full with his relationship with his own sire. He said he had no desire to create another vampire just to enlarge his family or to replace Darla. And the fact that the one he did create is the Slayer and has retained her soul apparently complicates the situation tremendously.”

“I would think that Angel would be the expert on being a souled vampire,” Giles said mildly. He had made no attempt to discourage Joyce in her dislike for the old vampire, having his own difficulties with Angel’s continued existence; however, he recognized that the other souled vampire would be the one most able to help his Slayer understand and cope with her new status and he tried to refrain from adding to her unwillingness to allow him anywhere near her daughter.

He did try to discourage Joyce’s obvious affection for Spike, repeatedly assuring her that the unsouled vampire was inherently evil and could not be trusted. His astonishment when Joyce shared with him the number of times Spike had visited her home – unbeknownst to Buffy – and done no more damage than to accidentally drop a mug of hot chocolate, was overwhelming. The idea that a vampire, even one that was old and therefore in control of his demon, could and would willingly spare the life of a trusting human was counter to everything he’d been taught in his years with the Council of Watchers. He vowed silently to try to see the enigmatic vampire through less prejudiced eyes, if for no other reason than for their shared dislike of his grandsire. 

The next time Buffy came to his apartment to discuss the final plans for Graduation Day, he mildly suggested that she might want to have Spike present also; just to be sure they were all on the same page. She gave him a surprised smile and nodded eagerly.

“Sure, Giles. He’d like that. It’s been hard having to make plans with nobody speaking to anybody else except me. I guess Angel should be here too, huh?”

Trying very hard not to express how completely distasteful he found that idea, Giles nodded his curt permission and Buffy went out happily to meet her sire and tell him the good news.

~~~~~~~~~

“What do you mean, you won’t come if Angel’s there?” She glared at Spike, her lower lip going out in a pout. “Could you be more immature? We need to make our plans and I’m tired of running back and forth between Giles and you and Angel. You have to do this, Spike! I’m… I’m ordering you to!”

Spike squeezed his eyes shut, stretched and cracked his neck as he fought to keep his fangs from descending.

“Goddammit, Slayer. Could you try to act like a childe for one soddin’ minute? You don’t give me orders, you stupid bint. You take them! From me! I’ll be buggered if I understand what you’re findin’ so difficult about that concept.” 

Before Buffy could respond, the sound of Angel’s laugh had them both whirling to find her great-grandsire walking towards them. While Buffy frowned in confusion, Spike went into game face as he realized that Angel had heard every word he’d said.

“What’s the matter, boy?” the older vampire asked with a sneer. “Not sure how to train a childe properly? Maybe you need some lessons.”

Buffy could feel the underlying tension between them, including her sire’s fury, but had no understanding of the source. Spike’s relationship with her had been nothing but respectful, even when he lost his temper at her refusals to behave like a “proper vampire” and she had no idea what sort of upbringing her sire had suffered at the hands of Angelus. She sensed an underlying current of fear in Spike’s demeanor – something she had never expected to see in the vampire who had been one of her toughest opponents.

“Don’t even think about it, Angelus,” he snarled, stepping between the vamped slayer and her sometime boyfriend.

With a start, Buffy realized that the fear was not for himself, but for her, and she stared at him in shock. Surely he didn’t think Angel was going to hurt her? He had apologized over and over for his actions the night he had drained her and left her for dead. While the two vampires glared at each other, she went over what Angel had said when he walked up to them, and the contempt with which his voice dripped when he said it. Cold anger replaced her confusion when she understood that he was sneering at Spike for not being able to control her. 

Stepping around Spike’s protective body, she walked up to the much larger vampire and asked softly, “I suppose you think you could do a better job of “training” me, Angel? Would you like to give that a try? Right now, maybe?”

The soft tone of her voice was contradicted by the look on her face. It was not a fledgling vampire staring at him, but the Slayer; her stony glare augmented by the fangs she was baring as her demon responded to her urge to do violence upon Angel’s body. She bounced on her toes, waiting impatiently to see if he would be as eager to discipline her as he had implied. Instead of taking up her challenge, Angel adopted an air of superiority and stepped back from the clenched and deadly fists in front of him.

“This foolishness just proves that Spike is not setting a good example for you, Buffy. You should never challenge a master vampire like that. You should treat me with respect; after all, I am your great grandsire,” he finished with a righteous look on his face.

“You’re also the bloody wanker who killed her in the first place,” Spike growled, admiring his childe’s actions even as he got into position to defend her if need be.

“At least I didn’t turn her,” Angel snarled, more willing to take on his grandchilde than the lethal looking, vamped-out Slayer in front of him.

“No,” Buffy interrupted the potential battle. “You didn’t turn me. You left me to die in front of my mother with nothing more than a ‘sorry, Joyce’. Do you think she hasn’t told me what happened? How you just dumped me in a busy emergency room and left? If Spike hadn’t been there, and hadn’t been willing to do what she begged him to do, I’d be nothing but a decomposing body in a grave somewhere. Is that what you wanted, Angel? Do you think that would be better for me?”

With a long-suffering sigh, he dropped his head onto his chest. “No,” he whispered. “I don’t think it would have been better. I’m not sorry you’re here, Buffy, I just—”

“You just think you can treat me like any other fledgling vampire – and you want to take it out on Spike when you can’t,” she replied with sudden insight. “You’re not angry that he turned me, you’re angry that he made me so strong, and that I kept my soul. You’re sorry I’m still the Slayer.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he snorted, turning away so that she couldn’t read his eyes. “I’m just trying to teach you how to be a vampire. I know you already know how to be the Slayer.”

“Well right now I don’t need to know any more about being a vampire. I need to be the Slayer until we’ve prevented the Mayor’s Ascension. Then, maybe, I’ll worry about learning to be a better vampire.”

At Spike’s look of heightened interest she added quickly, “Or maybe not.”

“Knew you didn’t mean it,” he snorted, falling into step beside her as they turned toward the Watcher’s apartment. Angel followed morosely behind them, trying to ignore the easy banter between them and mulling over the idea of leaving Sunnydale after the battle. 

The atmosphere in the apartment quivered with tension as the two old vampires, the newly-vamped Slayer, her watcher and her best friends all went over the last minute details of their planned battle against the Major and his minions.

“All right, Xander’s in charge of weapons and mobilizing the people he thinks will be able to handle them. Willow will do a cloaking spell so that Principal Snyder doesn’t know I’m there until it’s too late. Angel will guard Willow until it is safe for her to leave and Spike will guard Giles while he sets up the explosives. I’ll get as close as I can to the podium and be ready to lead him into the school.”

“Didn’t you have to leave your old school because you burned it down?” Xander inquired innocently. “Is this going to be, like, your MO?”

“It was only the gym, not the whole school, and I’m not burning this one down, I’m blowing it up!”

“Makes all the difference,” Spike agreed with a grin before turning to look at his childe with admiration. “Burned it down, huh?” he said happily. “That’s my girl!”

“She’s not your ‘girl’,” Angel snarled, glaring at his grandchilde.

“Figure of speech, Granddad,” Spike grumbled. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist over it. It’s not like she’s your girl anymore, either,” he muttered just loud enough for Buffy and Angel to hear.

“Could you stop baiting Angel?” Buffy hissed at him. “We’re trying to prevent an apocalypse here!”

“Spoil sport,” he grumbled even as he subsided into silence. Spike caught Angel’s sneer in his direction as he obeyed the Slayer’s command to stop baiting the other vampire and was poised to lunge when he realized that Buffy had also seen it. Before Spike could move, She had grabbed Angel by the throat and was squeezing his neck with one hand while she punched him with the other.

“I. Told. You. If you wanted to try disciplining me, you should. Let’s start now, huh, Angel? Give me an order to follow and let’s see what happens. Do you want to do that, Angel? Do you? Huh? Do you think since you killed me, you should have the right to say what kind of vampire I am? Is that what you think? Do you think Spike is too nice to me? Is that the problem, Angelus?” 

Each snarled word was punctuated by a fist to the vampire’s rapidly bruising face and body as the Slayer allowed the pent-up anger she’d been carrying to explode onto the one responsible for her current condition. 

There was shocked silence in the room as her watcher and friends saw the familiar body wearing a demon’s face pummel Angel until he was lying on the carpet feebly trying to protect his face and head from the now out-of-control Slayer. At a nod from Giles, Spike stepped across Angel’s inert body and gently put his arms around Buffy, pulling her back against his chest and murmuring into her ear while Giles stood over Angel protectively. The watcher had no real interest in saving Angel’s life, but he knew they would need all the help they could get against the Mayor and he also did not want Buffy doing anything for which she would be sorry later.

“Buffy,” he said urgently. “I understand you are angry at Angel – as well you should be – but I believe if you continue to punish him like this, you will find yourself regretting it. And, as you so correctly pointed out to Spike, we have an apocalypse to prevent; Angel’s help will be needed.”

Buffy’s vampire face gradually faded as she regained control of herself and realized what she had done. She looked over her shoulder into her sire’s eyes and said softly, “I’m okay now, Spike. You can let go.”

“Do I have to?” he whispered, nuzzling her ear and squeezing her gently before loosening his arms. 

Buffy rolled her eyes at him, recognizing the attempt to make her smile for what it was, and whispered back, “You do. For now, anyway.”

“Gonna hold you to that, pet,” he responded with a grin as she stepped away from him. “We’re gonna be discussin’ this again once we’ve sent that old man to hell where he belongs.”

She rolled her eyes again and then looked down at the groaning vampire at her feet. 

“You could have just told me to stop it, like you did him,” Angel growled, hissing with pain as he tried to sit up.

“I’m sorry, Angel,” she said, doing her best to sound sincere. “I guess I just kind of lost it. Spike’s trying to teach me to control my demon but sometimes I just forget how.”

Pulling himself into a chair with a groan, her former boyfriend slumped against the back of the overstuffed chair and glared morosely at his smirking grandchilde. He didn’t miss the fact that the smack Buffy administered to the back of Spike’s head was a gentle warning rather than an actual attempt to hurt him, although it did cause him to wipe the smirk off his face and drop his eyes in apology. Angel’s demon snarled at Spike’s easy acceptance of the Slayer’s disrespectful behavior, even as he admitted that he himself had no desire to test Buffy’s new-found strength.

Buffy didn’t miss the look that flashed across Angel’s face, but instead of confronting him about it again, she simply moved closer to her sire, effectively sending the message that while her behavior might not be that of a typical fledgling, Spike was now the most important vampire in her life. 

 

 

**Chapter Two**

That the Ascension entailed the Mayor’s turning into a giant snake caught everyone a bit by surprise, but with the use of Faith’s knife as bait, Buffy was able to tempt the now-demonized Mayor into chasing her into the building. Visions of Principal Snyder being swallowed whole lent wings to her feet and she burst out of the gym doors just ahead of the giant mouth that was reaching for her.

“Now, Giles!” she screamed as she dove behind a dumpster.

The ensuing explosion blew the large trash receptacle over onto its side, effectively pinning the shell-shocked Slayer beneath it. Within seconds, Giles and Spike were beside it, frantically calling her name. With no heartbeat to listen for, Spike was forced to rely on the fact that he would have felt it if she had been dusted by the explosion or the heavy dumpster. 

“She’s under there,” he gasped, grabbing one edge of the huge metal container and preparing to lift it. While Giles lent his own insignificant human strength to the task, Spike let out a groan and raised the bin far enough for a barely conscious Buffy to crawl out and roll away before both human and vampire strength gave out and the heavy box crashed to the asphalt surface.

Buffy opened her eyes to find herself being held tightly by her sire, his face a study in relief and fear. She was surprised to see tears glistening in his eyes as he held her and whispered into her ear how worried he’d been and how glad he was to see her. The knowledge that she was completely safe in the strong arms that held her allowed her to relax into unconsciousness, a small smile on her face. 

She awoke to the gentle rocking sensation of Spike’s long strides as he carried her away from the school. When he felt her stirring, he paused and looked down into her battered face.

“Where are we going?” she asked softly.

“Where I can get you cleaned up and make sure nothing’s broken,” he growled. “Where do you think?”

“I think I need to go back to the school and help with the clean-up,” she said firmly, squirming around until he set her feet on the ground. “I can’t just run off and be pampered while everyone else is fighting!”

“You did your bit,” he growled. He had allowed her to stand up, but kept his arms around her lightly until he was sure she could stand by herself. 

“Come on, Spike,” she growled back at him. “You know better than that. My ‘bit‘ isn’t over until we know we’ve defeating all the minions and everyone is safe.”

With a resigned sigh, he dropped his encircling arms and nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Chosen One, sacred duty, blah, blah. Let’s go then.” He turned around and began striding back towards the burning building and screaming students.

“You’re going with me?” The surprise in her voice stopped him in his tracks. 

“You didn’t think I would?” The hurt was evident on his face and Buffy stammered as she tried to explain.

“Well, I only asked you to protect Giles until he got the explosives set. I didn’t really expect you to fight other vampires with me. I mean, that’s what Angel do—”

A blood-curdling snarl cut her off in mid-sentence. He whirled to face her, fury and pain exposed in equal measure.

“You are my childe,” he managed to get out around his fangs. “I would never send you into battle by yourself. I’ll be by your side until this mess is cleaned up and I don’t feel like I need to watch your back anymore. When it’s done, I’m going to be gone. Your precious Angel can help you protect the Hellmouth.”

“You… you’re leaving?” 

“You don’t need me. You don’t even want me, truth be told. Every time there’s a problem, you go running to your precious ‘Angel’ for help. It’s time I moved on. I never intended to stay this long anyway. I’d just popped in to visit your mum when your boyfriend decided his life was more important than yours.”

He whirled and began striding towards the burning school, ignoring the sound of her feet as she ran to catch up. He was already regretting the words his anger had pulled from his subconscious, knowing he would now be forced to either admit he didn’t want to go, or to leave the childe for whom he was beginning to feel more than just a sire’s responsibility. Cursing his impulsive mouth, he waded into the battle, taking out his frustration and anger on the remaining minions who were quick to figure out that neither one of the two old vampires on the scene was on their side.

~~~~~~~~~

When the emergency teams had arrived, the fire was almost out and the injured had been taken away in ambulances, a small group gathered on the far side of the road, taking care to stay out of the way of the still busy firemen. Giles, Willow and Xander slumped with exhaustion – too tired to enjoy the taste of victory. 

Giles looked at the three almost as weary-looking vampires and said, “I believe we’ve done all we can here tonight. I am going to take Willow and Xander home and then fall into my bed. I suggest you do the same.”

“Fall into your bed?” Spike’s remark evoked only a minor groan from Buffy, who poked him with a tired arm.

“Perhaps, when I am less exhausted, I will find that remark amusing,” the man said stiffly. “As it is….” He trudged toward his car, gesturing for the two teenagers to follow him.

“See you tomorrow, Buffy! “ Willow waved before joining Giles in the walk to his car.

Xander cast a disgusted eye at Buffy’s companions, then muttered his “Good night” and followed the other humans into the night.

 

**Chapter Three**

The three vampires watched in silence as the watcher drove off with Buffy’s remaining human friends. Now that the battle was over and they had prevented the apocalypse, there seemed to be nothing holding the threesome together.

“Good job, guys,” Buffy finally broke the uncomfortable silence, giving each vampire a small smile of appreciation. “I guess we can go home now, too.”

Angel sent a resentful look in Spike’s direction before touching Buffy’s arm and asking quietly, “Could we talk, privately? I have something important to tell you.”

“Need to borrow some hair gel, then, do you, Angelus?”

“Shut up, Spike. This is none of your business.”

Buffy’s hand on Spike's arm forestalled any comeback that could have re-ignited the earlier argument between the two now-glaring men. When she saw that he was forcing himself to answer her unspoken plea, she turned her attention back to Angel.

“Can’t it wait?” she asked plaintively. “I’m tired too. I just want to go home and go to bed.”

Angel clenched his jaw and exhaled sharply. “Buffy, you’re a vampire. You don’t go home and go to bed when it’s only midnight. When are you going to stop trying to pretend that you’re still human?”

“When I stop feeling like one,” she snapped. “What the hell is wrong with you? I’ve been up for most of the past two days AND nights, I just outran a giant snake, almost got turned into a Buffy pancake, had a fight with my sire about my job and fought a bunch of evil Mayor minions. I’m tired and I want to take a shower and sleep for the next two days. How does that make me a bad vampire?”

“You had a fight with Spike?” Angel’s expression became more interested as he focused on the only part of her rant that held any interest for him. “Did you hurt him?”

Buffy’s eyes rolled. “It wasn’t a fight, fight, you big dope. It was an argument.”

“Which you won, of course,” Angel sneered, temporarily forgetting the beating Buffy had administered the last time he implied that her sire was shirking his duty.

To Buffy’s surprise, it was Spike who put a restraining hand on her arm this time, saying just loud enough for Angel to overhear, “Leave it go, Slayer. We’ve got better things to do than deal with his jealousy.”

“We do? Oh, yes! We do. That’s right.” 

Turning her back on the puzzled Angel, she took Spike’s arm and looked up at him with a dazzling smile.

“We have showers to take, beds to fall into… and… and sleeping to have… and… I think I’m losing the theme here,” she whispered finally.

“Not a problem, luv. I’ll be there to remind you.”

“Buffy.” Angel’s cold, controlled voice cut through the flirting banter she was sharing with her sire and she turned with a sigh.

“Yes, Angel. Let’s get it over with. What do you want to tell me?”

“Privately. I said I wanted to discuss it privately.”

Buffy watched Spike’s face darken as her sire realized that she was going to let Angel have his conversation. He shook his head at her, turning away and muttering, “I’ll see you around, Slayer,” as he began walking away.

Buffy looked back and forth between the two vampires, desperate to follow Spike and reassure him that she wasn’t choosing Angel over him again. Before she could do so, he was out of sight and she was left with a very self-satisfied looking Angel.

“What do you want that’s so freakin’ important that it couldn’t wait?” she snapped.

“I wanted to tell you that I’m leaving Sunnydale,” he said quietly. “I didn’t sign on to follow a fledgling vampire around and watch her flirting with my grandchilde. I’ll let you know where I am when I get set up, and if and when you come to your senses and want to learn what it means to be a real vampire, you can call me.”

She gawked at him, her mouth hanging open as she tried to process what he was saying.

“You’re leaving? Leaving Sunnydale? Leaving me?”

“I’m going somewhere that I can do some good. You don’t need me – you’ve got that bleached moron to help you fight – and, you clearly don’t have any interest in learning how difficult it can be to live as a vampire with a soul. When you are ready to be taught about being a vampire, and how to handle the soul, you can come to me. I’ll be in LA.”

Buffy stared at him, waiting for the heartbreak she was sure she was going to feel. Instead, a calm sadness settled over her and she went up on tip toe to kiss his cheek.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Angel, but maybe you’re right. Hellmouth or not, Sunnydale probably doesn’t need both of us. And LA isn’t that far away; if I need you for another apocalypse or something.”

“So, I was right.” Angel’s voice was sad, only his clenched fists and the amber flashes of his eyes gave a clue to his real emotions. “You would prefer to be with Spike.”

“Actually,” she said quietly, “Spike says he’s leaving too. And I wasn’t aware that you were giving me a choice. You said you were leaving.”

“Well, obviously, if he goes, I won’t need to,” Angel said stiffly. “You should have said that right away.”

“I thought this was about going where you could do some good? It sounds to me more like it’s about being jealous of Spike!” She glared at her former boyfriend, torn between anger and a tiny surge of pleasure to think that two master vampires were fighting over her.

“I would never be jealous of that bleached pain in the ass. He is beneath me – and he’s beneath you. The sooner you realize that, the better. Clearly, the proper mate for a souled vampire is another souled vampire, but until you come to your senses and stop blaming me for—”

“For killing me?” she asked wryly.

“For accidentally drinking too much from you,” he continued with a growl. “When you can get over being mad about that – and thinking that Spike ‘saved’ you, you will understand that we belong together and that he is just standing in the way.”

Buffy shook her head in disbelief. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing, Angel; but I’m too tired to argue about it tonight. If you want to go, go. I’ll miss you. But I’m not sending Spike away just to make you happy. Good night, Angel.”

She turned and without looking back, began to jog slowly in the direction Spike had taken. She knew she would have no chance of catching the angry vampire if he was really trying to stay away from her, but she was equally sure that he wouldn’t leave Sunnydale without telling her mother ‘good-bye’ first. Increasing her speed, she began to run toward her house, the knot of fear growing in her stomach giving her the first indication of which of the older vampires’ departures would leave the largest hole in her life.

She neared her house just in time to see Spike exiting the backdoor, waving back over his shoulder to the woman silhouetted in the light from the kitchen. When the door closed behind him, his shoulders sagged and his head dropped onto his chest, preventing him from seeing Buffy perched on the hood of his Desoto. 

Spike was reaching for the door, when he finally realized what his senses had been trying to tell him and he froze, his thumb still on the door lock.

“You weren’t going to tell me ‘good-bye’? Even Angel was man enough to do that.” Her voice was flat and hard, giving no indication of the emotions roiling through her.

One look into the devastated eyes he raised to meet hers, and she immediately regretted her words. She was momentarily lost, absorbing without conscious thought the easily visible emotions that the vampire had been hiding behind his cocky attitude and sexual innuendos. 

“I don’t think I have that in me, pet,” he responded after long minutes of soaking up the gradual realization dawning in her eyes. “I’m a bloody coward and a weak man.”

Buffy slid off the hood of the car, slowly approaching the wary vampire. Spike’s hand dropped to his side, his fingers twitching with the need to touch her just once again before he left. He remained stiff and still as she moved into his personal space, lifting her hands to rest them lightly on his shoulders. Neither one had looked away yet, and Buffy held his gaze as she asked softly, “Does that mean you can’t go if I ask you not to?”

Hope warred with experience as he struggled to believe what she was saying.

“See,” he said with a shaky laugh, “there you go again – confusin’ who’s the sire and who’s the childe. I’m the one should be doin’ the asking and you should be doin’ what you’re asked.”

“What would you ask me to do?” 

“I’d ask you to tell me what you want. Do you want me to leave, Buffy?”

She shook her head silently, still staring into his eyes.

“What about the big poof?” he asked, sounding more petulant than he intended.

“He wanted me to choose,” she said, adding simply, “So I did.”

Her quiet statement was all it took to break his self-control. In fractions of a second, she was pressed against him, the arms holding her in place comfortingly strong and gentle. Her hands slid from his shoulders to his neck, her slender arms wrapping around it and bringing their faces together. 

“Don’t leave me, Spike. I need you,” she whispered into his neck. “I need my sire… and I need my… friend.”

“Right,” he managed to say, her words reminding him that just because he was her sire and she enjoyed his company, it didn’t mean that her feelings for him in any way mirrored his own. “What kind of a sire would I be to leave my only childe jus’ because I was….”

“Jealous?” she guessed shrewdly. Angel’s sarcasm about which vampire would make the proper mate for her had opened her eyes and she suddenly had a better understanding of the tension between the two. 

“Of the poof? Don’t be—” He broke off when he saw the grin growing on her face. “Did you really choose me?” he asked. “Over your soulful boyfriend?”

“He hasn’t been my boyfriend since the night he killed me,” she said firmly. “It’s just taken him a while to figure that out.”

“So, then….” he began, pulling her close to his body again, “Does that mean there’s a vacancy at that position?”

His lips brushed over hers, waiting for the final assurance that he wasn’t misunderstanding her intent.

“I hope not,” she whispered, rising on her toes to press back with her own mouth. “I was kinda hoping it was already filled.”

His non-verbal response, which left her weak-kneed and panting, was the answer for which she’d been hoping. Only when she had begun to wrap her legs around his hips and move against the hard length pressing into her, did she remember that they were still in the driveway of a house in which her mother was undoubtedly still awake. Reluctantly, she dropped her legs and tried to push herself away.

“Spike… Spike! We have to… to stop. My mom….” Her complaint trailed off in the wake of another bone-melting kiss and this time it was the vampire who pulled away. He held her at arm’s length, taking deep, unnecessary breaths to calm himself while he stared at her hungrily. He cast a look at the darkened house and dropped his hands.

“You’re right, love. I don’t want Mum coming after me with the axe again. And you’re right exhausted. What say we postpone the rest of this… discussion... until you’ve had that hot bath and some sleep?”

Her lip crept out in a pout, evoking a heartfelt groan from the vampire. “Ah, now, that’s cheatin’, love. Here I am tryin’ to do the right thing and let you scamper off to bed and you go and stick that lower lip out at me.”

“I don’t want to go to bed right now. Want more kissing,” she demanded, evoking another groan. Spike pulled her close again, allowing her to feel what she was doing to him. 

“I don’t want to kiss you, love,” he growled, tightening his hold when he felt her stiffen. “Didn’t mean it that way, Buffy. You know I didn’t. Meant I don’t want to just kiss you. I want more, Slayer. Want all of you. Want to touch you, taste you, feel you around me… If we keep standin’ here snogging each other, I’m gonna be embarrassing the both of us.”

“I… I want more too,” she whispered, ducking her head. She knew if it were possible, she would have been blushing. “Just not here in my Mom’s driveway.”

“Tell you what, pet. You go inside, take that nice hot bath and get some rest. If, before dawn, you’re sure this is what you want, come to my crypt and we’ll spend the day there. And,” he added, stroking her face softly, “If you decide it’s not what you want, if you’re not ready… that’s alright. I’ll wait for you. I’m not goin’ anywhere. Not now.”

“Okay,” she agreed shyly. “But I’m not changing my mind, so you’d better be there when I get there.”

“I will, I promise. An’ I never break a promise to a lady.”

“’K, then. I’ll see you before dawn….” She rose on her toes and kissed him again, pulling back before it could turn into something more than the promise she meant it to be.

“I’ll be waiting. With bells on,” he added, wiggling his eyebrows at her suggestively.

“Just so that’s all you have on,” she replied saucily, running into the house with a giggle when he choked and coughed. She waved happily from the entrance before shutting the door on his thunderstruck expression. She ran up the stairs quickly, pausing when her mother opened her bedroom door and touched her arm tentatively.

“Does your happy expression mean that Spike isn’t leaving Sunnydale?” Joyce asked, her face giving no hint of whether she thought it would be a good or bad thing.

“Yes, it does; and no, he isn’t.” 

“And?”

Buffy flinched at her mother’s insistent tone, then straightened up and looked her in the eye. With a sudden burst of confidence, she said simply, “I think I love him. And I think he loves me. We’re… we’re going to be together.”

“You don’t mean sire/childe together, do you?” her mother asked with a sigh.

Buffy shook her head, embarrassed but firm.

With an unexpected smile, her mother visibly relaxed, her shoulders dropping and her face softening.

“I believe he does love you, Buffy. I’ve been able to see it for a long time. I guess this is as close as I’m going to come to having an actual son-in-law someday, isn’t it?”

“I’m sorry, Mom,” Buffy said softly with a wisdom beyond her years. “I know this isn’t what you wanted for me.”

Joyce shook her head. “Don’t apologize, Buffy. You aren’t responsible for being Chosen, and you’re not responsible for being a vampire. I can lay that one at my own feet. And, I don’t regret it!” she added quickly when Buffy’s face fell. “I would much rather have you around than not – no matter what you are. You are still my daughter and I will always love you and be grateful to Spike for saving your life.”

“Well,” Buffy said with a small smile, “technically…”

“He saved you.” Her mother’s tone brooked no argument. “He did as I asked, and he saved my daughter for me.” Joyce waved her hand dismissively. “It was that other vampire that killed you. Not Spike.”

Buffy grinned at hearing Angel referred to as “that other vampire” and nodded her head. Giving her mother a quick peck on the cheek, she said, “I’m going to take a hot bath now and try to catch some sleep.” She hesitated; then added softly, “I probably won’t be here when you get up in the morning, but we–I’ll come by tomorrow evening. After dark.”

Joyce studied Buffy’s face briefly, then nodded. “All right, sweetheart. I’ll see you tomorrow night then.” She backed into her bedroom and closed the door, leaning her head on it briefly as she let go on any last hope that Buffy would be living a normal life. She knew exactly where Buffy would be going before dawn – and why. 

_My daughter is a vampire. She is going to the cemetery to sleep the day away in a crypt with her vampire lover._

Brushing away a lone tear that had slipped out, Joyce shrugged and climbed into her bed, closing her eyes and allowing sleep to overtake her.

Buffy luxuriated in the tub full of hot bubble bath until she felt it begin to cool. Although she was not as affected by heat and cold as she had been as a human, she could still feel temperature differences and she still enjoyed the muscle-relaxing therapy of a good hot soak. However, with the heat rapidly fading, she quickly washed her hair and scrubbed her skin until it tingled; then got out of the tub. She got out, dried herself off and applied her usual after-bath moisturizers and deodorants. 

_I guess old habits die hard._ Buffy made a wry face as she applied deodorant to sweat-free armpits. She quickly blew her hair dry, brushing it out as she did so and leaving it hanging loose the way she knew Spike liked it, but rarely got to see. Not sure enough of her vampire sense of time yet, Buffy set her alarm to go off at 4:00 a.m. and tucked herself into bed for a few hours of much-needed rest.

 

**Chapter Four**

Long before the alarm actually went off, Buffy was awake and tossing restlessly in her suddenly empty-seeming bed. Now that the decision had been made to follow the path towards which her instincts had been pushing her for some time, she was impatient to get to Spike and begin another new chapter in their relationship.

_First he wanted to kill me, then he wanted to help me save the world – and that ho-bag of a girlfriend… A throaty snarl erupted from her throat at the thought of Spike’s sire and the devotion he’d shown for her. Then, he turns up crying on my mother’s shoulder about the same cheating bitch. And, then, it turns out he comes to see my mom every time he’s in Sunnydale! Because he likes her. Not me – my mom! And not only does he not kill her – he lets her talk him into turning me. He had to know I might stake him for it._

Throwing aside the covers, she got up and dressed quickly, putting on matching black lace underwear under her utilitarian sweats. She brushed her hair one more time, ran a little gloss around her lips and slipped out of her bedroom. Just before she closed the door, she turned and ran back to snatch Mr. Gordo off the bed. Stuffed pig safely under her arm, she ran with a light step all the way to Spike’s crypt, arriving at his door only to find herself struck with a sudden attack of nerves.

_What if he doesn’t want me? I mean, he wants me; I can tell that. But what if he doesn’t want me to stay here? I shouldn’t have brought Mr. Gordo. What was I thinking, I’ll just go—_ Her panicky thoughts were interrupted by the opening of the door. Spike stood just inside, his hand still on the latch, an expression of wonder on his face.

_She’s here early. I wonder what that means? Maybe she changed her mind and she’s come to tell me she won’t be stayin’. Couldn’t blame her. My beautiful childe. Deserves better than a cold grave._

Buffy stared, her fingers squeezing and releasing the stuffed pig’s body the only indication of her mounting nervousness . That, and the still-habitual breathing that caused her to pant lightly as she watched his expression change to one of apprehension.

“You’re early, pet. Wasn’t expectin’ you so soon. Is anything wrong?”

_Don’t let anything be wrong, Buffy. Don’t have changed your mind. Please don’t have changed your mind._

“N-no. Nothing’s wrong. I just… If I’m too early, I can leave—”

She had only half completed her turn when his arms went around her and he practically cried, “No! Not too early! Never too early, love. Don’t go!”

Sagging with relief, she allowed him to hold her up while she basked in the knowledge that he really wanted her there.

“So…” she ventured, uncharacteristically shy and unsure of herself, “It’s okay that I came over early? You don’t mind?”

“Mind? Have you lost your bleedin’ marbles, Slayer?” His snort of amusement was followed rapidly by a softer tone as he held her tightly and whispered against her hair, “You’ve got no idea how badly I’ve wanted this, pet. Just to have you here – in my home… not that I think it’s… I’m goin’ to find something better, somethin’ more suitable for you. Not that I’m sayin’ you’re going to be living here, mind—” His voice rose again as he realized he might be taking too much for granted and Buffy giggled softly at his confusion.

“You’re cute when you’re babbling,” she said with a smile.

“Hey! Master vampire here, missy. I am not ‘cute’!”

“Yes, you are.” She turned so as to be facing him, and tilted her head up to his. “You’re cute. Just like Mr. Gordo.” She waved the stuffed pig in the air, giggling again when he stopped himself just before his lips would have met hers to growl, “What the bloody hell is that?”

“That’s Mr. Gordo,” she replied with a hint of steel in her voice. “Where I go, he goes.”

“And you brought him here?”

“Well… yeah.” Her voice lost some of its assurance. “Is that… is it okay? I just thought….”

“Is he going to stay here?” Spike’s voice gave no hint of what he was thinking, but his face was an open book.

“Well… if I sta—hey!”

The rest of her words disappeared in her throat as Spike took the pig and, using the back of his hand to sweep the candles off a stone shelf, he reverently placed it in the middle. Giving it an affectionate pat, he turned to smile at the bewildered slayer.

“He looks pretty happy there, don’t you think?”

Her face relaxed into a genuine smile as she nodded her head.

“Yeah, I think he looks pretty happy. I think he’s glad to be here.”

“I don’t think I can tell you how happy I am to have him here, love.”  
Spike’s voice had deepened and his eyes darkened as he once again held her against his body. “I don’t think I have the words.” He dipped his head and brushed his lips across hers before capturing them in one of the bone-melting kisses she was already learning to associate with the vampire she’d thought she knew so well.

“Lips work,” Buffy gasped, allowing her body to mold itself to his. “Words… overrated… want… lips…”

With a soft growl that reverberated all the way down to her toes, Spike swept her up and was across the crypt in a few long strides, pausing when he reached an opening in the floor that Buffy had never noticed before.

“Trust me?” he asked softly. At her timid nod, he stepped through the opening and dropped to the level below, landing so lightly that she barely registered that they had stopped. She stared around in amazement, taking in the large, four-poster bed, the thick rugs covering the dirt floor, the armoire and the roll-top desk in one corner. A single large candle provided the only illumination, although Buffy could see what looked suspiciously like an electric nightlight glowing from well down the darkened tunnel at the far end of the room.

“Spike? Where… wha—when…?”

He ducked his head shyly and admitted, “Did a bit of shopping after I left you. Some of this stuff was already here, but I wanted you to feel comfortable – as comfortable as you could, anyway. I know a hole in the ground isn’t what you deserve, love, but until I can—”

She interrupted his apologetic explanation with another lengthy kiss; one that ended with the two of them tumbling onto the bed as Spike staggered across the room. With a giggle, she broke free of his demanding mouth and squirmed all the way onto the fluffy bedding until she was against the headboard. She smiled up at him, her own eyes darkening as he crawled across the bed to her on all fours, looking every bit the predator that he was.

“This is where you tell me you’re only here for the kip, Slayer,” he growled, even as he began to rain kisses down the side of her face and neck. “‘S your last chance to protect your virtue.”

“Don’t wanna protect my… virtue? Is that one of those old-timey words that you use to remind me that you’re older than dirt?”

Instead of answering her, he continued his assault on her neck, smiling when she caught an unnecessary breath as his blunt teeth grazed her throat where the scar from his bite was still visible. When he put his lips around the mark and began to suck on it vigorously, she gasped and arched up, using her powerful arms to pull his body down against her.

Spike rested on his elbows, continuing to suck on her mark while he reveled in the feel of having her strong, soft body writhing underneath his. He allowed his entire weight to settle onto her, temporarily stilling as he heard her sigh in contentment. He took his mouth off her throat to look into her lust-filled eyes.

“You know I’m bloody batshit-crazy about you, don’t you, Slayer?”

“Translation, please,” she whispered, breaking his gaze and running her own lips along the soft skin on his throat. She growled softly when she encountered the scar from his turning bite, nipping hard at it with blunt teeth before moving on.

“I love you, you disrespectful” … kiss … ”bossy” … kiss … ”beautiful” … kiss …”sexy”… kiss …”childe”. With his last word, he once again fastened his mouth on hers and they were lost in each other. With no need to breathe, the kiss went on and on until the desire building up inside their bodies began to demand more. Buffy was moving under him, her legs apart so that he could press against her where and how she wanted him. Her legs came around his hips to hold him there while she ground against him, small whimpering growls coming from her throat.

With an effort, Spike tore his mouth from hers, kissing her face frantically as he gasped, “Wait, love, wait. Let me do this right. Please. Don’t want it to be too quick.”

Ignoring her whimpered protest, he shoved himself far enough off her body that he could begin pushing her sweatshirt up until he could see the black lace bra that she had hidden under it. With an appreciative growl, he pulled the shirt off her willing arms and slid back down the bed, pulling her sweat pants with him as he went. When they were off, joining her kicked off shoes and socks on the floor, he ran his eyes back up the length of her legs until he could see the light brown curls peeking out from the scrap of damp lace covering the source of the intoxicating aroma he could now smell.

Beginning at her ankle, he kissed his way up one leg, pausing to nibble on the skin behind her knee before draping that leg over his shoulder to give him more access to what he wanted. Buffy’s hips were already moving as he nipped and licked at her through the lace. When he finally used his teeth to rip the lace off and swept his tongue from one end to the other, she arched off the bed with a shriek and grabbed his head with both hands.

While he worried her clit with his tongue and blunt teeth, his hands were busy moving her bra out of his way so that he could caress the breasts and hard nipples waiting for his touch. Buffy’s head was tossing from side to side as he put over one hundred and twenty years of practice into making her first orgasm with him something that would wipe Angel’s one-time love-making out of her mind. When her gasps and whimpers were coming faster and faster, and her grip on his hair was becoming painful, he pulled her swollen nubbin into his mouth and sucked on it until she had stopped shuddering under him and was lying limp, gasping for unnecessary air.

Feeling more than satisfied with himself, he rose to his knees and pulled his own shirt over his head, throwing it away and unbuckling his belt in almost the same motion. Buffy’s half-open eyes widened as he pushed his jeans down and the object that had been pressed against her earlier came into view. Torn between curiosity and embarrassment, she kept shutting her eyes then opening them again to take quick peeks at his naked body when she thought he wouldn’t notice. 

_Damn! He noticed._ She blushed as she caught a glimpse of his cocky smirk. Spike ran one hand down his naked chest, smiling at the way her eyes followed it all the way down to the dark-blond curls from which his cock was jutting.

“See anything you fancy, pet?” he purred, standing up briefly to kick his jeans onto the floor. When she glared at him for calling her on her obvious admiration, he laughed softly and again knelt down between her open thighs. He ran his hands up the insides of both legs, moving past what she had thought was his target and up the silken skin of her stomach until he reached her rib cage. With a quick movement, he dropped onto the bed and rolled on to his back, pulling her with him to straddle his hips. His hands made quick work of the clasp on her bra, and he tossed it onto the growing pile of clothing scattered about on the floor.

Lifting his head, he fastened his mouth around one rosy nipple, sucking on it until Buffy was moaning and pushing it into his mouth even harder. His cock was bumping against the cheeks of her ass, seeking the opening in which it wanted to be buried. Staring into his eyes, Buffy fought back the urge to look away as she slid down until she was poised over him. Spike’s mouth came off her nipple with a soft “plop” as he met her gaze with wonder and growing desire.

Never taking their eyes off each other, Buffy lowered herself onto his ready cock, which Spike had quickly moved to hold into place with one hand, the other hand resting on her hip. Slayer healing being what it was, and well over a year having passed since her disastrous night with Angel, they found that – to their dismay – the Slayer was as tightly closed as she had been on her seventeenth birthday.

“I’m sorry, love,” Spike managed to get out as he fought the demon’s urge to force its way in. “I’m afraid it’s going to hurt.”

“News flash, Spike. Number one – I’m a slayer, so yay for high pain thresholds; number two – been there, done that already and lived to tell the tale; and – big plus for number three – I’m a vampire. Didn’t you tell me we like a little pain with our pleasure?”

“That we do, pet.” He gave her a feral grin and pushed his hips up as he pulled her down with both hands. The small, fleshy barrier gave way and he slid into her; a tiny gasped “oh!” the only sign that she’d felt anything beyond the totally new sensation of having Spike inside her. She looked down at his face, watching his demon emerge and totally unaware that her own face had shifted as well until she bent to kiss him and their fangs clashed together.

The taste of each other’s blood as their torn lips and tongues met was distracting enough for them to almost forget what the rest of their bodies were doing. While their hips began a rocking motion that was as old as life itself, they sucked and licked as though starving. As the urgency lessened, they became more conscious of the sensations building in their lower bodies and both slid back into their human faces.

Spike gently rolled them over so that he was once again above the slayer, his hips never stopping their gentle motion and his lips now free to whisper his devotion into her willing ears. Buffy’s arms and legs wrapped around her sire, feeling, for the first time in her life, the absolute connection that came from having shared both blood and sex with another vampire. She unconsciously tightened her interior muscles, pleasantly surprised when Spike hissed and began to croon encouragement in her ear.

“Oh, yes, love. Like that, Buffy. Love you, my wonderful talented girl. Do that again, sweetheart; squeeze me, you are making me hurt in all the right ways…”

As he babbled in against her neck, his hips were moving faster and harder until he was pounding into her, game face to the fore once again. As Buffy met him thrust for thrust, digging her nails into his churning buttocks, she allowed her demon full rein also. They climbed to their impending release, each striking at the same time and burying their fangs in each other’s throats, pulling hard on the borrowed blood there as they rode out simultaneous orgasms.

Spike slowly removed his fangs from Buffy’s neck, licking the wounds closed before lapsing back into his human face. She followed his lead, licking the marks she’d made over Drusilla’s original bite and then pushing her demon away. For minutes they lay together, coming down slowly from the heights to which they had climbed together. Finally, he rolled off, pulling her with him to snuggle against his chest.

“So,” she began, stopping to clear her throat and tame the squeak in her voice. “I guess that’s what they mean by `hurts so good’, huh?”

She felt his chest rumble with laughter as he tightened his arms around her. “I doubt anyone has ever made it hurt quite that good, my love,” he said, making no attempt to hide the admiration in his voice. He reached down and pulled the rumpled bedclothes up over their bodies before he continued. “And I doubt anyone ever will. All they can do is envy us.”

Buffy’s wide yawn was followed immediately by an attempt to apologize, but with a gentle chuckle, Spike ran a soothing hand across her forehead and encouraged her to close her eyes.

“Didn’t you want to do it again?” she asked plaintively, even as her eyes were drifting shut.

“ I do, love, and we will. But you need to sleep now and so do I. We have the rest of our unlives to practice making love to each other.”

“Practice? You mean we could get better at it?”

“I’m countin’ on it, Slayer,” he said with a trace of his usual cockiness. “I’m definitely countin’ on it.”

“ `K, then,” she murmured into his chest. “Sleep now, practice later.”

Safely underground and protected from the deadly sun, the two vampires – one old, one almost brand new — fell into the day’s deep, restorative sleep, each confident that when they awoke the other would still be there.

The End


End file.
